The SecondGreatest Thrill
by A.A. Pessimal
Summary: In which stealth archaeologist and ethical assassin Alice Band runs up against an occupational hazard - at least, for Alice - of being a teacher at the Assassins' Guild. A taster for what will be a longer Discworld love story.
1. Night Rounds: introducing Alice Band

The blessed midnight silence hung over the Assassins' School. On that spring night, the day's work over, only the faint snoring, stirring and night-breathing of sleeping girls could be heard. A bed creaked occasionally. Alice Band made her way around the sleeping girls as only an Assassin moves: silently and unseen, counting heads and ensuring all the girls in her charge were in their beds and safe and well. A silent half-seen form in her dressing-gown and slippered feet, she had only her sixth-form girls to go before she could call it a night and retire to bed herself, her duties as Housemistress completed.

She nodded approval as Jocelyn Selachii sat up in bed, aware of her presence. Recognising her teacher, she lowered the crossbow and made safe.

"Well done!" Alice whispered. "Merit point for spotting me coming. You don't need the pistol-bow, by the way. Routine round."

She had high hopes of Jocelyn. _But I'll still send her on the Vimes run next week, _she thought_. It'll teach her for pointing that bow at me. _

Soundlessly leaving the fifth-formers, she ascended to the higher floor that housed her sixth-formers. _Smaller dorms. More privileges. Two or four to a room. Won't take too long. _

The first two study-bedrooms went without a problem. She took a second in the corridor, wistfully looking out into the night through a high stairwell window. _A super night for edificeering. If it holds till tomorrow, I'll go out there after my last duty round. I wonder if Steffi's working tonight? I could use the company. I'll leave a message for her._

The third study bedroom revealed a different sight. Slipping in silently and noiselessly, she saw two of the beds were empty. She could account for that: one girl out on assignment, acting as apprentice to Matthew Ludorum, and one on home leave. But the _third _empty bed?

Moving swiftly on, she discovered the reason. Jocasta Wiggs and Emilia Mountjoy-Standfast were tightly wrapped in and around each other, deeply and blissfully asleep, with the bedclothes only randomly covering them. Alice, her heart beating a little faster, took a few moments to observe: Jocasta's nightdress had ridden up above her waist, exposing a long, long, well-shaped leg which was wrapped over and around Emilia. Meanwhile, Emilia's nightdress was both pulled down to her waist and rucked up over her thighs, barely covering anything.

In a conflict of emotions, Alice noted further details, such as the fact Jocasta was cupping Emilia's left breast in her hand. The right breast was exposed, lapping against Jocasta's right arm, with its nipple erect against the faint moonlight.

Alice swallowed hard, and regained her composure. Deftly and with kindness, she re-arranged the bedlinen so that both girls were covered up, hoping she wouldn't wake either. Jocasta's eyes, however, blinked into wakefulness and she looked first confused, then horrified.

"_Miss?"_

Alice forced a smile.

"You should really cover up. I don't want you both catching a cold."

"Miss…"

Alice lifted a hand for silence.

"She's asleep. You don't want to wake her. Oh, it's more comfortable if you push the beds together and tie the legs firmly so they don't separate in the night. You can tie the two mattresses together by the carrying handles. There's nothing worse than being the one caught up in the gap between the two beds if they pull apart in the night!"

Jocasta relaxed.

"Thank you, miss…" then a slightly shocked look of realization. In answer to the unspoken question, Alice smiled and said "Do you think you're the _only_ ones? Goodnight. Very sweet dreams, and I'll see you at breakfast!"

As she left, she heard Emilia make a questioning "Wstfgl?" noise.

Alice smiled to herself, but after what she'd just seen, there was only one thing for it. "_Gods, why did you make me a teacher in a girls' school and give me a sense of responsibility?" _she screamed, inwardly. Returning to her own room, she locked the door, then kicked her slippers at the wall with some force. She threw off her dressing-gown and got into bed, then reached for the _special _bedside drawer. She fumbled to unlock it, then rummaged at random for the first one she could find, heaving the nightdress roughly up around her waist, not caring if it tore. Jumbled pictures started moving in her mind as her fingers found the sweet spot, and started to stroke.

_Jocasta's leg… wrapped around _**me**_… and those cute young-girl breasts of Emilia's, she's presenting them to my mouth and asking if I like them… oh if there's a goddess for frustrated lesbian teachers, I really, really, need a girlfriend… Jocasta, her sweet little tongue teasing and licking and finding the spot and her breath hot on my pussy and Io! Io! I'm coming….._

She wasn't surprised the next morning when Jocasta and Emilia, looking sexless and plain in the school uniform, asked to see her.

In day clothes, with her hair bound up in a tight bun, Alice was aware she looked the part of the stern and severe schoolmistress. She looked over the rim of her glasses at the two girls standing in front of her desk.

"Miss… about last night. We're not going to be expelled, are we?"

Alice smiled. She knew the school rule: any pupil caught engaging in _un-natural sexual activity_, which she knew was a euphemism for _gay_, was to be reported and expelled with maximum demerits. She suspected it was a hangover from the days of the School being all-male, where that sort of thing was an occupational hazard. She could see it made sense if an older boy was coercing a younger: but then the crime was one of rape, not one of sexuality. And these two girls had been friends since arriving at the School, so no question of force or coercion applied here.

Besides, being un-naturally sexual herself, Alice had no intention of enforcing that rule.

She smiled. "Good heavens, no. I know what the school rules say. But as you get older, ladies, you will realize that there are no such things as _rules_: merely _guidelines_. But if I may advise you: Rule One is what it always was, which is _Don't let yourselves be caught. _It makes life so much simpler if the people who make the rules believe you are conforming to them." She paused, and added "That's the benefit of hard personal experience."

Emilia cleared her throat, nervously. "Miss… are you…?"

"Have I done the same sort of thing that you two were doing last night? Yes, as often as I can! But that's between us, obviously. I know something that can get you expelled, and you know something that could get me sacked. But as it's the same _something, _we can safely be discreet about it, can't we? Now if there's nothing else, you both have Traps and Deadfalls with Dr Nivor. Off you go!"

She watched them leave. She noted that not even the Assassins' School uniform, deliberately designed to make its wearer look as drab and sexless as possible, could completely hide the fact there were two gorgeous, physically honed, teenage bodies underneath its shapeless folds. She made herself tear her eyes away from Emilia's bottom, and looked away.

_Oh, you Goddess of un-natural female sexuality, I really, really, need a girlfriend! _

She felt the familiar moistness between her thighs, but knew that was nothing compared to the yearning she had felt ever since starting work at the school.

_Alice Band, you're thirty-two years old. You should be over this by now. It's the girls who should be having adolescent crushes on you, not the other way around! _She bitterly added to herself _If this was a scene in one of those "Klatchian Holy Books"__1__ that Dibbler peddles, I'd be the manipulative domineering bitch who makes those two girls warm her bed, in return for my silence. But this is real life. Real life has consequences. I'm their teacher. Teachers do NOT fuck their pupils. Not now, not ever. The relationship's too precious for that, even with the bratty ones. And here, there are __**other**__ things to consider…_

Shaking her head, she went to take her first lesson in Ancient History and Stealth Archaeology.

1 _**"Klatchian Holy Books"**_ – in the USA, the generic term for short pornographic novellas or picture books that a man could read with one hand while the other was…er…otherwise engaged, was a _**Tijuana Bible. **_This was due to the fact that they were printed in Mexico and smuggled across the border for profitable resale. Mexico, to generations of Americans, paralleled the way the British thought of Egypt: full of pimps trying to sell their sisters, or failing that, dirty postcards. Ref. Fred Colon's experiences in Klatch while working undercover in _**Jingo. **_


	2. Steffi Gibbet, Licenced Thief

Steffi Gibbet sauntered inconspicuously through the streets of Ankh-Morpork. She was, after all, a qualified and licenced Thief, a product of a Guild even older than the Assassins, but lacking in social cachet.

She had passed out of the Thieves' School the summer before, with Honours and starred firsts. Since then, she'd been putting in time at the School as a teaching assistant, working with the young girl apprentice thieves and teaching them the most fundamental thing of all: _if you seek only to be as good as a man, you are lacking in ambition. _

If you pressed her, she'd say she was doing it for the extended Gibbet family, the loose siblinghood of Foundlings taken in by the Guild, not knowing their own parents, but abandoned at the guild gates to receive some sort of a start in life. In the Thieves' Guild, foundlings were randomly assigned the names of one of the great thieving families of history: Ludd, Newgate, Turpin, Boggis, or in her case, Gibbet.

Steffi had long since got over crying for parents she would never know (the Guild had provided, with love and a not-especially-harsh hand). She strongly suspected the people of Ankh-Morpork lacked imagination, and speculated that there were other worlds where the place of execution of a condemned criminal had a wistful, poetic, sort of name, perhaps after a neighbouring stream which would be the last sight the hanged woman would ever see, or some sort of simile for the gallows, maybe Hangingtree, or The Blasted Oak. The name _Tyburn _kept intruding on her mind: Steffi quite liked the idea of being Stephanie Tyburn, but knew it would be unthinkable to cease being a Gibbet. Which was the _only_ name Ankh-Morpork had for its civic gallows and by extention the place of execution, a broad square at the top of Mollymog Street. If you asked, the average citizen would scratch his or her head in perplexity1, and reply _Well, it's a gibbet, innit? Why call it anything else? A gallows, maybe. No need to call it anything else!_

_The gibbet._

What a thing to be named after, she thought. And as good as a label. But OK, names betray occupations. Anyone called Bozo has got to be a clown, and anyone called Venturi or Selachii must be a top-nob assassin.

There'd always been what could be called _needle _between the Thieves and the Assassins. Steffi figured it was a class thing, yobs versus nobs, two of the four oldest Guilds in the City locked in a perpetual atmosphere of icy formal politeness because the alternative, especially under Vetinari, was unthinkable. Oh, there were ongoing efforts for greater mutual understanding, she knew: the Boggis-Downey Cup, for instance. And some of the far-sighted teachers in both Schools, usually the younger ones less tied to convention, were agitating for some sort of pupil exchange, but this had so far been firmly vetoed by senior Assassins. Lord Downey had said – publicly- that this was unthinkable precisely _because_ parents sent their sons to the Assassins' School to keep them well away from any dangerous mixing with the lower orders.

Steffi knew there were some decent likeable people in the Assassins' School. People were people: she'd have been more surprised if there hadn't. There was Matt Ludorum, for instance, a sixth former who was a heart-throb to girls of all social classes, who'd inspired a _We Love Matt! _fan-club of adolescent girls, and who was the poster-boy for School recruitment. Steffi had therefore been predisposed to hate him on principle: she'd discovered a genuinely likeable, somewhat modest and shy, youth who was if anything embarrassed at his popularity and would have much preferred anonymity and less female attention. He'd been relieved to meet a girl who frankly wondered what the fuss was about and who candidly said "relax, you're not my type!" Even if he was drop-dead good-looking, she thought.

Steffi stole just enough every month to pay her Guild dues and keep a modest standard of living. This involved weekly trips to Conina's to keep her hair well-tended; here she'd met Alice Band for the first time, and had liked her instantly. She reminded Steffi of Frankie Fagin, only a more upper-class and stylish version. Some of Alice's older pupils attended Conina's to remain fashionably coiffed. After getting over a flash of jealous resentment at their talk of big homes in the country, the ponies in the stables, and the generous allowances that they didn't need to work for, the cowbags, Steff had been surprised to find herself liking them.

Under the surface, people like Jocasta Wiggs, Emilia Mountjoy-Standfast and Jocelyn Selachii had turned out to be likeable, pleasant, unaffected, young women of a little less than Steffi's own age: eager to compare tales of the Assassins' School and how it compared to the Thieves' School. Even though she was still inclined to think of them as spoilt cowbags, she was pleasantly surprised by how _normal_ they were, close-up. Just normal with more money.

They talked about Grune de Nivor, Old Man Mericet, Lady T'Malia, Madame les Deux-Epées and Miss Smith-Rhodes: Steffi reciprocated with verbal sketches of her own teachers, like Flogger Boggis, Tommy "The Cosh" Jones, and R.E. teacher Sister Brigid (the assistant chaplain to the Thieves' Guild – the only school that would give her sanctuary after embezzling a cool quarter-million from her convent), and Frankie Fagin.

Frankie.

Steffi let her mind go back a few years. Frankie Fagin had been personal mentor in her third year: a bit like Alice Band explained her job as housemistress, to act as surrogate parent and bearer of confidences, as much as teacher. At around this time Steffi had begun to have moral qualms about the profession of Thief and needed somebody to talk to about it. Was it right, she asked, to steal a purse or a wallet from somebody who is obviously dirt-poor and who might be relying on that money to raise children, say? We're all from the same backgrounds in the dirt-poor part of the city. Should we be robbing our own, when we could concentrate on those stuck-up rich bastards in Ankh who wouldn't even notice?

Frankie had grinned the grin of one who has heard this line of reasoning before from similarly precocious pupils.

"My, aren't we developing a proletarian conscience!" she had said. Then softened and added: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound as if I'm sneering at you. Just remind me to introduce you to Reg Shoe the next time we do a practical in town – he'd love the ideas you're coming up with!"

Francesca Denise Fagin, known affectionately to her pupils as "Frankie", leant back in her chair.

"Several flaws in your reasoning, my dear Stephanie. One, let's say we suddenly became thieves with a social conscience and targeted, as you put it, "those stuck-up rich bastards in Ankh". Oh, they'd notice, alright. They'd notice. And then if we became not just a nuisance but a menace, they are rich enough and they are powerful enough to take action. Which we are not powerful enough to fight. At the moment they pay the Guild premium on the understanding that once paid, we leave them well alone. This suits both sides, especially since this Guild collects the premiums and then pays on an agreed amount in tax to the Patrician. Effectively, this guild acts as the tax-gatherer, from the rich, for the City. Do you see how it works? Vetinari gets the rich to pay tax, not directly to him but via us, so he avoids bad publicity. We cream off a premium, he gets much the same amount as if he were taxing them directly, and everybody's happy. The city works. The rich, who normally hate paying tax because it goes to subsidise everyone else and they see nothing coming back to themselves for it, actually get freedom from crime. Everybody gets something.

"The last thing we want are young revolutionaries coming up who want to upset the applecart and wreck a system that works. Ye Gods, the rich control regiments! They employ Assassins as security consultants! If we became a threat, they would destroy us. And Vetinari would let them. And that wrecks everything this guild has achieved in the last twenty years. Everything! We lose our legitimacy and we become a mob of small gangs again – that even the Watch could catch.

"I can't let that happen, Stephanie. It shows you're thinking, it shows you're passionate about what you believe in, and I do respect you for that. But.." Frankie rose from her seat, a sign the interview was over, "I'd like you to re-examine those ideas, and write me a two-thousand word essay as to why they are wrong. I've given you some reasons. Find a few more."

Miss Fagin escorted Steff to the door of her study.

"And I do, I really, genuinely do, value you as a pupil. You have so much potential!"

Miss Fagin had put her arm around Steffi's waist and drew her in for a quick, consoling, hug. Steffi had let herself be hugged, snuggling her face into her teacher's upper shoulder, feeling the soft warmth of her breasts against her upper body. It had, she remembered, felt really nice. Really, really, nice.

Even when Frankie had moved a hand down onto Steffi's bottom and squeezed gently, Steffi had hugged back, appreciating the warmth, the closeness, and something else that she couldn't quite identify but which gave her the same deliciously warm thrill, a sense of potential danger, as when she'd first lifted a purse.

The hand on her left buttock gently stroked and squeezed. Then Frankie appeared to wake up from a dream.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie. I didn't have the right to do that."

Steffi had blurted out something like _It's all right, Miss, I really don't mind – _and this was totally truthful: she didn't mind at all.

"Oh damn, Drat. You're thirteen, aren't you, Stephanie?"

"Nearly fourteen, Miss".

"Too young. I don't want to hurt you! Look.. perhaps in a year or two?" Her teacher's lips had briefly brushed against hers in a consoling kiss, and the world had stopped for Stephanie Gibbet. It would start again, but it would never be the same. Something had awoken in her.

And that had been that. There hadn't been a year or two; a couple of months later, with Steffi having silently willed for an opportunity to repeat the experience and maybe go further, the Scandal happened, and Mr Boggis told morning assembly that _by her own consent_, Miss Fagin had left the school, and _nothing untoward_ should be construed by that, so _forget any rumours_ you might have heard. Thank you.

Boggis was famously bad at card games, the older Steffi thought, recollecting the incident. Apparently Frankie had been caught with one of the senior girls in her bed, an upper-sixth girl, and Steffi had had her practical lesson in life: hearing ugly-sounding words like _Dyke_ and _Lezzie_ bandied about, and realizing that there was nobody she could talk to about the feelings Miss Fagin had stirred in her. She realized some kinds of sexual expression are more socially acceptable than others, and the one that had stirred in her that day was not a socially acceptable type. Steffi sadly buried her sexual feelings, and got on with learning to be the best damn thief she could be.

_But one day, she thought. One day. _

1 Often dislodging a lot of small inoffensive insects who were only trying to make a home for themselves. So don't get too close when you ask perplexing questions.


	3. Alice has a crisis of conscience

Alice Band was on her night rounds again. Tump House largely slept, and its Housemistress silently flowed through the dorms, just another shadow, counting heads and checking beds.

She scored a minor victory over Jocelyn Selachii, who was asleep: she surreptitiously disarmed Jocelyn's crossbow, and left a note saying _No merit point tonight! AB _where the arrow should have been.

Alice had hesitated while getting ready for bed. She'd unpinned her hair and let it flow free, long and auburn, down her back. She had selected a clean nightgown, white linen, leaving her arms bare but dropping to mid-calf. She felt she deserved a bit of _daring: _after a moment's hesitation, she reached down, grasped the hem, and pulled it free over her head, feeling her breasts briefly lift and bounce. Discarding the nightdress, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. _Not bad for thirty-two! _And ran her hands over her body, trying to remember the experience of somebody else's hands stroking her body up and down. Donna's face and figure formed in her memory. She smiled. Maybe again, soon, if the pressure got too much to bear, and I can afford it. She slipped her dressing gown on over her naked body, and made sure it was firmly tied in front.

She was pleased to see that Jocasta and Emilia had taken her advice and pushed the beds together. _So much more comfortable when the sex is over. _A trained Assassin knows how to hide in the shadows. Alice watched, noting with interest that the girls were not asleep.

_Oh my dear Gods, they're sixty-nining! No wonder they haven't noticed I'm here._

Feeling vaguely dirty she watched the tangled bodies on the bed, making out Jocasta's blonde head between Emilia's thighs, and listened to the low squealing, panting, but necessarily muffled, sighs of excitement. She smelt the warm musk of female arousal on the night breeze. She heard the regular _schlup-schlup_ noise of a tongue moving rhythmically in another woman's wetness. Alice felt her hand moving towards the front of her dressing gown, teasing at the opening, her fingers moving closer to her own sexual centre; then realization set in that she was intruding on their privacy and had no place here. She left as quietly and as unseen as she had entered, and fled back to her own room.

She kicked the door closed, tugged at the cord of her dressing gown, and ripped it open. The special bedside draw was the next thing to be tugged open, and she didn't even bother to get into bed. Throwing herself full length on the top of her bed, dressing gown pulled completely open, and her thighs spreading against the touch of her own fingers, Alice masturbated herself to her first orgasm. She wanted it quick, she wanted it fast: it didn't have to be subtle. She felt herself getting wetter and hotter underneath her demanding fingertips, and began to thrust her hips up against her own caresses. Her toes curled and reflexively dragged up the bedcover, as her legs flexed. _Gods! Ohgodsohgodsohgods…. Imagine me on that bed there.. Jocasta's tongue licking and lapping up my vagina.. and tonguing my clit just the way I like it, wherenow I'm having to make do with my own wet fingers…and Emmie's pussy up against my face, that lovely gorgeous slippery lobster-smelling tight wet open little cunt of a young girl…her cunt-damp thighs over my shoulders and against my face..I'm almost there… burying my face in Jocasta's beautiful bum-cheeks, pulling them apart and rimming her lovely chocolate starfish with my tongue, and feeling my fingers inside her, in that tight wet space, like a hot wet glove, and the way a vagina, any woman's vagina, tenses and squeezes and bears down on you when she starts to come and OooooOoohOhaaahOoohhyesyesyes I'm coming! oh Cassie! Frankie! Cassie! Aaaaaaaah! _The white-hot light exploded from her clitoris outwards, and she fell back onto a suddenly wet bedspread.

Her heart pounding, her body easing, her chest rising and falling, she reached for the thing Rosie Palm had delicately described as a _harigata._ It was going to be a long night, she thought, but the she had the time and the recent pictures of Cassie and Emmie in her mind to safely exorcise. It was funny, she thought, winding up the mechanism, how she'd started out fantasizing about being the third person in bed with Cassie and Emmie, but a memory of Frankie Fagin had emerged unbidden for the first time in ages. Fondness and sadness and exasperation vied in her as she wondered where Frankie was and what she was doing now.

_OK, that's about right. I hope I don't have to stop what I'm doing to wind it up again. _She felt the low vibrating buzz from the thing and started to move it in slow tight circles around and over her right nipple. Her mind started to replay memories….


	4. Learning to cope with girl pupils

Six or seven years before the present day. The scene is a light, airy, conference room at Filigree Street, filled with senior Assassins. The vast majority wear the purple silk sash that marks them as teachers at the Guild School.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Cruces, I really don't think it's going to work. We need to rethink this". A younger Alice Band, a new employee at the Assassins' School, has swallowed her nervousness and fear and is raising a point with her employer. This is at a teaching faculty meeting with the Guild Council: on paper at least, the teachers were encouraged to raise any concerns or suggestions for improvement with the Council. In practice, she is hideously aware it has earned her the cold serpentine disapproval of Doctor Mericet.

"Continue, Miss Band".

"The school uniform rules for female pupils. They must be made more flexible. How can a girl pupil be expected to go edificeering, or play the Wall Game, in a nearly ankle-length skirt? I understand, sir, I'm here as part of an experiment into how far co-educational schooling can be made to succeed here. But for it to succeed there should be no unfair or irrational obstacles thrown in the way of the girls. I was prevented from teaching a basic edificeering lesson yesterday by senior staff who objected to my wearing trousers. How can I be expected to effectively teach an activity calling for full physical flexibility when the clothes I am told to wear deny me full movement? As much to the point, how can the girls learn when the uniform dress is inappropriate? Doctor Cruces, I really must insist that the girls be allowed to wear loose baggy trousers for practical lessons involving physical exertion. You said yourself, when you employed me, that the fine detail could be amended, as when it came to teaching girls you were all learning".

Mericet's glare had intensified to something akin to a cold thermal lance. Alice reflected that she had been warned about him – a teacher of the old school, deeply opposed to the idea of female Assassins and utterly opposed to the idea of the School being anything but male. She felt he was emotionally committed to the idea of sabotaging the experiment and ending this dangerous idea that women should have equality with men in any sphere. She carried on:

"And that in learning together, we would inevitably make mistakes, but that these should be identified and resolved so as to give the girl pupils a fair and equal chance of succeeding"

Cruces nodded, but said nothing. To his right, Lady T'Malia gave Alice a smile and the sort of eye-contact that said _Good for you, girl! Stand your ground and don't let them bully you!_

Mericet cleared his throat, and in his dry dusty voice said: "Master, there are fundamental issues of decency at stake here! It is a given that women should dress and act modestly, as befits their state!"

Madame Deux-Epées, the school's new Mistress –At-Arms, snorted derisively and said, in her Quirmian accent: "Master, May I say that ze insistence on ze long _jupe_ for all activities has made a complete farce of my lessons? How an I to teach swords_man_ship" (she spat out the _man _as if it were an insult – "to the girls when they are constricted in ze skirts? My colleague Mademoiselle Band , _elle a completement la droit!" _

The long, lean, wiry fencing teacher, her hair tied back in a pony tail, nodded at Alice, who smiled back, wondering if the fencing mistress might also be…. No, dangerous thought. _"Madame" presumes the existence of a husband. _ Madame Deux-Epées continued: "If ze good doctor is so concerned about modesty, and does not allow trousers, then perhaps the girls might tuck ze dresses up into ze knickers, _peut-être? _Or perhaps into ze stocking-tops, so as to leave ze legs unencumbered?"

_I could never have said that, _Alice marvelled. _If I'm exposed as a lesbian later, Mericet would remember, and put it down to my un-natural lusts .More evidence against me. _

This frank Quirmian remark stopped the meeting with laughter, low murmuring, and gasps. Doctor Cruces had to pound on the table for silence.

A previously silent member of the Guild Council – or at least, she was sitting with them – asked for the floor.

"Lady de Meserole?" Cruces invited her.

She took a sip of water, and her eyes found Alice's. Alice had a vague and uneasy feeling her mind was being read and the inner rooms she took good care to keep locked and secret were being opened. Then Roberta de Meserole smiled at her, leaving her feeling, just as unaccountably, that this woman was on her side.

"It appears, Master, that we have a difference of opinion here. Please can I be candid on a matter we last discussed in Council only? I believe the wider meeting here should be aware that the Patrician himself places a lot of importance in the success of the Assassins' School becoming fully co-educational. As a product of this school himself, as a member of the Guild, and one whose preferred relationship to this School is one of friend and benefactor, Lord Vetinari would not wish to see what you refer to as "an experiment" fail. And certainly not over something as trivial, in the greater scheme of things, as what the girls may or may not wear for sports and essential trade skills lessons. He has said, and I believe I quote him accurately, that to discount the skills and talents and ideas of one-half of your population, in _any_ area of human endeavour, is akin to cutting off one arm and one leg and then attempting to win a running race."

She paused to let this sink in, and added:

"So if nobody objects, I can report back to Havelock that the girls at this school are not going to be irrationally hampered by not being allowed to wear suitable clothing for sporting activities? And that, as Miss…Band?... so eloquently argued, loose baggy trousers would allow full limb movement whilst preserving the over-rated concept of feminine modesty? Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!"

The next issue on the Agenda was one of who would represent the School at Teachers' Guild meetings, as mr Mericet was, alas, standing down from the position. Alice listened with half an ear as Dr Downey rambled on… _Patrician supports…. All Guilds with schools or a teaching function must have their teaching members dual-registered with the Teachers' Guild…naturally we will pay your dues… we need to nominate a member of staff to the Teachers' Guild to attend its meetings and conferences…_

Mericet stood up, and flashed his teeth at Alice in a smile that had absolutely no humour in it.

"As Lady de Meserole has so rightly said, to best defend the interests of the Assassins' Guild School at the Teachers' Guild, we need to send an eloquent and ah, passionately committed, member of staff. I propose Miss Band."

Alice sat up with a start.

Somebody else said "Seconded!" , and Alice realized she'd been made the dogsbody. She muttered an uncharacteristic _"Shit!" _and gave in with all the grace she could muster.


	5. The Teachers Guild, a smoke filled Hell

The Teachers' Guild was everything she had been dreading. Lord Vetinari's pronouncement, that the Guild could be _strengthened _and _enabled to take its proper place in the life of the City_ by absorbing representatives of other Guilds with a teaching and educative function, and that indeed he saw nothing wrong in such people being dual-registered as Teachers, had brought an unlikely cross-selection of representatives into a committee room at the Patrician's Palace.

To her great distaste, the room smelt like one super-staffroom, the Platonic ideal of the Teachers' Lounge, the pluperfect Senior Common Room. For only one occupational group, in any phase of the Multiverse, smokes more than wizards. Teachers. Regardless of whether they dealt with the primary, secondary, or tertiary, level of the educational ladder, whether like Miss Frout they ran an infants school, or, like Mr Gregson of the Builders' Guild, vocational classes in bricklaying, almost unanimously to a man or woman, they smoked. Add the smells of fear, BO, incontinent four-year-olds, and and wet tweed to the equation, and it was the Staffroom from Hell. Alice, a non-smoker, felt her eyes watering.

_There is nothing wrong with somebody being a member of the Guild of Clockmakers first, and also a member of the Teachers' Guild._ Vetinari had said. _All I am proposing is that such talented and able people also become Teachers' Guild members, so as to bring forward the whole business of general education in our City. At present it's a hodge-podge of what the Guilds provide, together with such as may be bought by those with access to greater or lesser amounts of spare income. Many of our citizens receive scant provision, or no provision at all If this City is to become a force in the world and realize its full potential, then I see this reservoir of skilled educators as being the nucleus of a greater challenge yet, an Undertaking to provide a basic and consistent education to _**all**_ our citizens, designed to fit them for the increasingly challenging and demanding field of gainful employment, and to enable them to release their potential.__1_

Alice had found herself seated in between a bird-like, twittering, woman in late middle age who had a distinct odour of distilled juniper berries about her, who introduced herself as Penelope Frout, headmistress of the Frout Academy For Young Minds. And on her other side… she looked and moved as if she had already worked it all out. She exuded confidence and ability and a sort of cat-like grace. She had short-cut thick black hair and a laughing square-set face, already showing the first signs of laughter lines in the corners of eyes and mouth. She wore loose comfortable trousers, and sturdy boots. A sort of loose tunic hardly disguised well-shaped breasts, and the ensemble was set off by a waist-length leather jacket. Alice was immediately and hopelessly in love.

"Hi" said the leather angel. "Who did _you_ annoy to get the shit assignment? I'm Frankie Fagin. Thieves' Guild School. Boggis didn't like the way I dress."

"Alice Band. Assassins' School" she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "I called Mericet's bluff in front of the Guild Council."

"Looks like we both landed a detention for our sins, then! Here's the deal: you don't kill me, I won't rob you. Deal?"

"Deal!" they clasped hands. Alice felt Frankie's fingertips experimentally stroke her palm. She stroked back. They exchanged a smile, and let their fingers brush each others'.

The meeting dragged and dragged. The only thing that made it bearable was Frankie, who without a word being said had pulled her chair closer to Alice's. Alice felt a trousered leg close against hers, and reciprocated every exploring move Frankie made. Their free hands clasped under the table, and with a sense of giddiness, Alice felt Frankie's fingers intertwining with hers.

_Is this how it starts? As simply, as easily, as this, as if all the blocks have suddenly fallen away? And how did she know? I could see it in her from a mile away! _

Somewhere else, Professor Stibbons from Unseen University was explaining how in the old days, apparently we used to take wizards from the age of four or five and that this necessitated having a kindergarten for children with magickal talent, followed up with a primary school on site to teach them the basic skills. Then they'd go into continuous education to see if they made the grade, although there's always fall-out and wastage. For us, the biggest influx of pupils now happens at the usual undergraduate age, eighteen, from people who've done basic education elsewhere but have a talent or a vocation for wizardry. A little bit like the Assassins' School, so he heard, although the difference is that our emphasis is on the _University, _not the school. Was it the case that the Assassins' put the emphasis on the school, with some university-level courses and postgraduate degrees offered for those who want to stay on? Miss Band? Hello?

"Oh, yes, absolutely right. The School is vitally important, but we also put an emphasis on continuing learning throughout life, so that Assassins in their forties and fifties might come back for in-service degrees or refresher courses. But I don't have anything to do with it at that level, my responsibility is to girl pupils aged eleven-to-eighteen. There's a _school_ at the University? For _children_?"

"Not what it used to be" Stibbons said. "Archchancellor Ridcully is a product of that sort of training, and his opinion is that we phase the whole damn thing out and let some other poor bugger have 'em when they're sprogs. Errm, his words. I'm quoting from the notes he gave me.". Stibbons then quoted, with some satisfaction: "Start a wizard off at three, and are you surprised if you get a collection of deranged and unhinged individuals like the Faculty? I think not!"

Alice recognized, in the beardless young wizard's face and demeanour, somebody else from low down the educational pecking order, who was too raw and inferior to get out of a bum assignment. Which makes at least three of us, she sighed.

The afternoon dragged on. Under the supervision of the ineffectual Master Greetling, a veteran of a thousand classroom wars who'd seen one unruly fifth-form too many, various representatives of City Guilds introduced themselves, described their role in the educational system, and expressed concerns as to the limitations of current provisions.

Alice dragged herself away from a daydream, involving Frankie Fagin and a hot soapy bathtub big enough for two, to register that the current speaker was Captain Carrot of the Watch.

_I bet he sincerely volunteered to be here, _she thought. _He's the type who'd believe a talking shop like this could make a contribution of worth and value._

"As you know, we have our Watch Training School in the old lemonade factory. The one area where we find recruits to the Watch to be consistently deficient is basic education. They're keen and they're able and they're streetwise, but after you make an arrest, you still need to be able to write a report and to be able to read it back in court. We're not asking for graduate-level intelligence, but it puts a bit of a brake on recruitment when two out of every three otherwise good new recruits can barely spell their own names. I know you all do what you can, but it's a sad fact that pupils at the best schools, who tick all the boxes, just don't want to join the Watch, and anyway Commander Vimes has his ….reservations… about signing up Thieves and Assassins." He touched his helmet at Alice and Frankie, "begging your pardon, ladies. Commander Vimes and Lady Sybil are considering a radical new idea, which is to say the Guild of Watchmen sponsors a school for bright pupils who have the aptitude to be steered towards a later career in the Watch. But this needs us to employ suitably qualified teachers who can do a lot of remedial work on otherwise bright children, who may have missed out on education earlier in life. As Mr Vimes said, we should look to catch the little buggers before the Thieves' Guild does, and turn them into Watch cadets. After all, if the bloody Thieves and the sodding Assassins can run schools, why don't we set up one of our own, give 'em some competition." Carrot coughed, uncomfortably. "His words, Miss Band, Miss Fagin."

"Just what I was saying!" exclaimed Mr Pony of the Artificers' Guild. "We need to make a big leap forward into a new era. Lord Vetinari said as much. But how can we deliver the big technological advancements he wants, when all I see are keen young lads coming to me for apprenticeships who _still_ need to be taught to read and write and add up, even _before_ we can teach them any useful physics and mechanics?"

"I agree completely" said Mr Hopkins, of the Clockmakers' Guild. "Ever since we lost poor Jeremy in that tragic accident in his workshop2, we've felt the need for keen enquiring young minds who just aren't coming through in the numbers we'd like. There's still the problem of longitude to be worked out, for one thing".

Alice felt a gin-soaked intake of breath from her left.

"A WATCH school?" squeaked Penelope Frout, a little behind on the discourse. "How perfectly dreadful! I'm SURE it will be torture for those little minds, regimented and imprisoned in para-military disciplinary structures!"

Many of the other teachers in the room groaned: they'd all heard of the Frout Academy, and many of them had received its consequences, when they moved up the educational ladder at the age of seven or eight.

Captain Carrot smiled his innocent smile.

"You're Miss Penelope Frout? Headmistress of the Frout Academy for Enquiring Young Minds? I've wanted to meet you for some time, ma'am. Just to say that when the Patrician was sentencing Jason Frottage the other week, he made reference to Jason having been one of your pupils. Lord Vetinari described you as running a singular place of education, in fact!"

Alice had to cover her mouth and turn a laugh into a cough. Next to her, Frankie spluttered delightedly.

Much later, they left the Teachers' Guild together.

"Greetling's got to go." Frankie said, reflectively. "I can see what Vetinari's getting at, mind you. You and me teach the lucky ones, the ones my Guild picks out as having ability, and the ones _your_ Guild picks out as having money. But there are a hell of a lot of kids in this city who slip through a very ragged net, and that's not just a shame, it's a waste! Imagine how many brains are out there who don't even know they've got intelligence and ability and talent? And never will know because they can't even read or write? Just imagine what this city could be if everyone got a basic standard of education! Come home with me?"

Alice almost missed it. Hastily she gabbled "Oh Gods, yes! Yes! " and had to hold back from kissing Frankie in the street, in front of witnesses. Frankie's face turned from anxiety to relief and then a big warm smile.

"I was scared you'd say "no"." she whispered. "It's a short walk, not far at all. Fortunately I don't live above the shop like you do".

She was leaning on one of the City's less inspired inventions, a machine that was mounted at waist-height, a combination of meter and money-box. The idea was that a coach or wagon driver would park up, and pay a shilling for permission to park. The shilling activated a clockwork mechanism that operated a flag, counting down an hour of permissible parking before the Traffic Division came along to fine them for overstaying. But this was Ankh-Morpork: the cash-box had been smashed open and the machine was inoperable.

Still, this was how Alice Band would remember Frankie Fagin that first time: _she looked so good, oh, she looked so fine, leaning on the parking meter…__3_

1 Being a realist, Vetinari had also said _Oh, it probably won't be completed in my lifetime or yours, Drumknott, but if we make a start, we might see some sort of universal school system in a hundred or so years. Too many of our best schools, such as the one I attended, consider education is a weapon: if they have it, and deny it to the lower classes, it keeps power in the right hands. Theirs. But if our teachers see for themselves the power they potentially wield and that universal provision makes their Guild potentially strong, we have three-quarters of the battle won. _

2 Refer to _**Thief of Time**_

3 Alice has just been hit by a reference particle arriving from Roundworld. The circumstances have caused her to quote Patti Smith's rather Sapphic version of Van Morrison's anthem _**Gloria**_, in which Patti falls in love with another woman who is nonchalantly waiting for her while leaning on a parking meter. Ref The Patti Smith Group, _**Horses (1977)**_


	6. Here will be slashfic

This is just a place-holder for a chapter still in preparation, where Alice and Frankie decide they quite like each other.

I will go live on the "dirty bits" – sorry to be a tease – I just want to write them as well and sensitively as I can!


	7. Edificeering: the BogginsDowney Trophy

Steffi Gibbet clapped her hands for silence, and the seven other Thieves with her looked expectant and alert. She exchanged a grin with Newgate Ludd, and adjusted the coil of thin tough rope wrapped around her upper body.

"OK, listen in! Strategy."

Regard Steffi at seventeen, a year or two before the present. . She has filled out into what will become her adult body, give or take a few little minor adjustments. The thirteen year old who had a crush on her teacher is now four years in the past, and a slim, wiry, boyish young woman stands in front of the Thieves' Guild edificeering team, which she leads. Her face is oval and confident and is used to laughing rather than crying. Her hair is cut into a stylish manageable short bob, her eyes are a startling green, and she knows she can climb anything the City has to offer. She is still troubled by powerful feelings towards other women, and if she is honest with herself, she would admit her fantasies might _begin_ with boys, in the approved sense, but sooner or later skew round to incorporate older women in their late twenties and thirties or even older, such as her hairdresser, Conina Harebut, Angua von Überwald, and those dolly teachers at the Assassin's Guild, like the Quirmian, Madame Two-Swords or whatever her name is, and Alice Band, who's always been friendly and approachable whenever I've seen her at Conina's. Steffi has also been in a slightly embarrassed tentatively hand-holding relationship of sorts, full of _errrms_ and embarrassed silences, with Newgate Ludd, a student thief to whom she feels drawn. He's her boyfriend, isn't he? So why does she feel so _lukewarm _about the physical side?

"The Boggis-Downey Cup". she said. "Jointly paid for by our Guild Presidents and which _we_ are going to win. Because we are the best edificeers in this city!"

Cheers and whoops.

"OK, people, we're practicing on the Bottle. The record for the climb is three minutes and fifty-seven seconds. WE will do it in three-forty. That's our target for today - go!"

The Bottle is the newest and main building of the Thieves' Guild. It stands over two hundred feet tall and is shaped like… an enormous bottle.

Now the Guild has it, it makes the most of it. A team of edificeers is making its swift but methodical way up the outside. A hundred and thirty feet takes you to the shoulder of the Bottle: this ascends gradually by ten feet until you reach the neck, which houses service utilities, water-tanks and chimney stacks. The idea is that rising heat from the chimneys heats water collected in the tanks from Ankh's ample rain, and that this can be piped down to where it's needed. The neck of the Bottle rises a further seventy feet with a tricky overhanging bulge, and then you emerge into a mini-forest of chimney stacks at the top, where in between, a network of runnels and gutters capture the relatively clean rainwater, and direct it down to storage tanks. The building is less than fifteen years old and won an Architects' Guild award, but not too many pieces have fallen off yet.

Steffi's long legs drive her remorselessly up. She checks her security line: the Thieves Guild doesn't like losing pupils. Her hands and toes move quickly from one hand-hold to the next, one tiny toe-ledge to another. She breathes freely and joyously. She is seventeen, full of life and vibrancy. She is doing what she loves, climbing, and her soul sings. Above her, she watches Tracy Ludd falter, struggle to reclaim a handhold, and slip away from the wall, swinging out into space on her safety harness.

_That's what you get for over-confidence, _Steffi thinks, climbing past and onwards, noting in passing that the safety mechanism has swung Tracy safely away from the wall, but has left her hanging in space, disconsolately looking down into the empty void. _We can pick her up on the way down. Or she can use her brain and abseil down._

On the shoulder, they disengage from the lower safety arms, one of which has just swung out with the helpless overconfident Tracy. One at a time, they re-attach to harnesses and ropes which will keep them safe on the upper climb to the neck of the Bottle. Steffi supervises correct attachments and tightness of ropes, and they set off again.

_More haste, less speed. _She checks her stopwatch. _We can do this in fifty-five or less. _

The six Thieves that she can count have reached the overhang just below the Neck. Steffi sees that Peter Boggis has had a moment of panic on the overhang, and talks him around it. She sympathises: overhangs are always tricky. That moment when you're dangling practically upside-down, hanging on only by fingertip and toe pressure, suspended like a fly from a ceiling… get over the fear and do it at speed, and you're alright. One, two, three: Go! They scramble round the edge together, and as her head comes up and body eases into place below it, the burden of gravity is manageable again. And they scramble into the forest of chimneys, in fact a minor plateau, at the top of the Bottle.

_What the Hell…_

Newgate Ludd is already there, waiting for them. But she last saw him at the tail of the climbers. There was no possible way he could have sprinted past them, she'd have seen it, but here he bloody well is!

"I don't know how you did that." she told him, repressing her anger. "But you know the rules as well as the rest of us, Newgate! When we come up against the Assassins in the Boggis-Downey Cup, we're sticking strictly to the rules, right! And the rule is, _no magic! _I mean, bloody hell, Newgate, what if Ridcully or one of his wizards is on the arbitration panel? Does the phrase _Independent Judge _mean anything to you? Whatever you used to get up there first, it wasn't just climbing skill, and if you do it on the day and disqualify us, we are all _screwed_, aren't we?"

"Sorry, Steff" Newgate said. "Don't ask me to explain it. I don't know what's happening either, but sometimes, something funny happens around time and it either speeds up or slows down, I don't know. I just knew you were all suddenly dawdling a bit, and I was moving normally."

Steffi frowned. "Maybe you should go up the Uni and be tested for magic, Newgie." She took his hand. "If it turns out you've got wizarding, Mr Boggis would send you off like a shot. You know he doesn't want problems with the wizards getting arsey."

"I don't think it's wizarding, Steff" Newgate said. "OK, that careers advisor we got from the University said that signs of magical talent start happening from about thirteen onwards, and Mr Boggis said if that happens to any of us, we should transfer to the Uni where they know how to deal with it, but I don't think this is _magic_. I'm blowed if I know what it is, though.1"

Steff nodded. "Just don't have a funny turn on the day. Please. I don't want to have to drop you from the team."

She turned to the climbers.

"OK, listen up! You've had a rest. That was four-oh-two. Good, but not a record! Now we do the descent in a target time of three-thirty. And just to show we can do it, then we repeat the climb, and I want it in under four minutes! Line up, check safeties!"

Steffi let a little of her mind stray to the _real_ climbing, the _real_ honing of edificeering skills, the sort where you got to be either very good or very dead, and that necessarily took place at night. Her soul exulted.

1 As we all know, Newgate "Lobsang" Ludd's odd talent was shortly to come to the notice of _exactly _the right careers advisors for him. As far as the Thieves' Guild was concerned, he disappeared so completely he'd never really existed. But some memories, like Steff's, could not be erased. See _**Thief of Time. **_


	8. The SecondGreatest Thrill

They met at midnight, making their various ways to the rendezvous. Steffi had had no problems: she'd recognized the signs of an ambush in a back alley, but had walked unconcernedly onwards, announcing herself in a low voice, as "Licenced Thief 42317 Stephanie Gibbet. Got that, boys? And just in case you're _unlicenced_ thieves, just step forward and tell me which eyeball you don't need!"

"Recognised, 42317" came the reply. "Pass on. You're in no danger."

Steff grinned, and re-sheathed the throwing knife.

"Good hunting" she said, politely, and walked on.

She met the girls in the urban void behind the Opera House.

"Hi, Steff!" said Jocasta Wiggs, warmly.

"Hi, Cass. And hi, Millie. Hi, Alice!"

The other two Assassins stepped from the shadow.

"Just waiting for two others" Alice Band said, "then we're all set. Could you just sign the climbing ticket?"

Steffi took the thin paper from Alice. It was headed with the Assassins' Guild crest and read:-

The Dark Council of the Guild of Assassins, Filigree Street, Ankh Morpork, solemnly attests that:- the bearer of this document has authority to affirm, in any Court or Assize of the twin Cities of Ankh and Morpork, that he/she and those named persons under his/her charge are engaged solely in the lawful pursuit of edificeering, which is permissible under the common law of the aforesaid Twin Cities and which is a privilege accorded to the abovesaid Guild, by Grant and Charter. The Bearer also affirms, on his/her honour as a Gentleman/Lady and a Chartered Assassin that on this occasion they are not in active pursuit of a Contract, and do not represent any cause for Alarm should they be found on the exterior of any Property or Premises by the Property Owner or their lawful Representatives. The Bearer also speaks for the good Conduct of members of any other Guild who may accompany the party and attests they are in attendance as guests of the Guild Of Assassins for no other purpose than legal Edificeering. In signing this Document, any member of the Guild of Thieves, Burglars and Allied Trades , is signing consent that they set aside the usual rights of their Guild and are here for edificeering only.

Signed for the Guild of Assassins:

The Right. Hon. Miss A.G. Band, Licenced Assassin.

"What happens if I nick anything while I'm up there?" Steffi asked, light-heartedly.

"Then I'm afraid both our Guilds hunt you down like a dog and take remedial action!." Alice replied, with a thin smile. She ruffled Steffi's hair, and laughed.

"Legal formality, Steff! Seriously, with edificeering taking off outside the Guilds, there have been a few nasty little incidents. If we do the Post Office, for instance, the gentlemen from the Coaching Guild tend to look upon _everything_ as a case of unlicenced thieves chancing their arm. They're unsophisticated men, who hit first and ask questions afterwards. So if we're edificeering in the area, we advise them first and ensure we're all covered by a "right to climb" licence. Mr von Lipwig's all for it – you know he edificeers himself?1 As it saves a lot of bother and aggravation all round."

The two last members of the climbing party arrived.

"Sorry we're late" said Conina Harebut. "Steff, Alice, you know Veronica?"

Veronica Crayfish, Licenced Thief, grinned. Steffi introduced her to the Assassins: Ronnie Cray, as she liked to be known, was an upper-sixth student at the Guild School and every bit as good a climber and housebreaker.2

"Can't keep you away, can we?" said Alice to Conina.

"I'll be good for nothing in the morning, but some things are in the blood. I need the fix now and again."

Conina Cohensdaughter, as was, was a legend in the Thieves' Guild. She'd officially retired from the business to open a hairdressing shop, but with a father like Cohen, some things were in the bone. The Guild still held her in awe over the business with the Archchancellor's Hat quite a few years ago; the University hadn't pursued her for the theft, as it related to a time every Wizard involved was keen to deny had ever happened.3

"Just be gentle on these old bones!" Conina laughed.

And the real climbing, the thrill of freeform edificeering, had begun, with the best climbers in two Guilds working together and forging a strictly unofficial bond. Bouts of roof-running and long-jumping between houses punctuated the climbs, and Steffi felt one hundred per cent alive and free and at ease with the world.

They took a break at the top of Small Gods, six girls and women in the peak of physical fitness, passing around a small flask of reviving cordial – strictly no alcohol – and sensing the flow of the city around them. It was silent in the rooftop world, the muted noises of a city that never entirely sleeps rising distantly from a million miles away.

Alice stretched out in between Steffi and Cassie Wiggs and reached an arm out to each.

Steffi squeezed her hand, feeling friendship and kinship. She noticed Cassie moving in closer to her teacher and accepting the arm around her shoulders. After a few seconds' hesitation, Steffi did the same. In a rare display of open affection, Alice hugged them both.

"You know I only ever bring the very best up here?" she said. "Twenty-five out of every thirty pupils, the ones who overcome fear and overconfidence and avoid being plain clumsy, eventually rate "acceptable" or good enough to pass. Out of the other five, only the very best get to come on these strictly unofficial expeditions. As a teacher, they're my delight."

She laughed, happily.

"Edificeering. The second-greatest thrill a woman can have."

"Second-greatest? But surely, miss…" Jocasta Wiggs frowned. Then she looked in Emilia's direction. "Ah, now I see what you mean, miss!"

"Hold that thought!"

Steffi frowned: she thought she understood what Alice was saying, but it sounded like it was in some sort of code. The closeness of an adult woman was stirring things in Steffi: she felt the warmth of Alice close to her skin, smelt the warm but not unpleasant smell of fresh sweat and physical exertion mixed with residual perfume, was aware of the gentle rise and fall of Alice's breasts as she breathed. And a memory returned.

"Alice..." she said. "Did you ever know a teacher at the Thieves School, called Frankie Fagin?"

Alice stiffened, then relaxed. "Yes" she said, with an undertone of sadness in her voice. "Did she teach you? "adding: "We were friends."

Steffi thought those three words hid an entire story. "If I could talk to you sometime, Alice. About things. Memories of Miss Fagin, since you knew her. And other stuff."

."Of course!" Alice said. "Any time, Steff!"

Conina called:

"I don't want to wake you up, but are you three stargazers ready to move off?"

And then they were edificeering again, the moment of intimacy just a memory. But Steffi was now watching Alice through different eyes: the flex of her leg, the hard tautness of her thigh muscles, the rise and fall of her breasts under the thin tunic, the way her daytime stern bun had become a night-time pony-tail, loosely bound and flopping about her neck and shoulders… Steffi eventually got back to her bed with the pictures in her head for a thousand fantasies.

1 Moist von l,ipwig nearly loses his safety harness while edificeering in the first chapter of _**Making m oney. **_

2 Indeed, her only rival was her twin sister, Regina.

3 See _**Sourcery. **_


	9. Disaster and recovery

Alice Band has just finished a duty round of dorms and study-bedrooms. She was, at that moment, not a happy schoolmistress: a girl has gone missing.

And _Jocasta Wiggs_, of all the possible pupils! Taking a deep breath, she decided to give it another fifteen minutes, perhaps to go downstairs and check with Maroon or Stippler at the porter's lodge to find out if there is a legitimate reason for Jocasta to have signed out of the Guild premises. After all, it sometimes happens without a teacher's knowledge.

If the dratted Wiggs girl has gone AWOL, then she must follow set procedures.

Alice returned to her room to get some breathing space. At the door, she pauses. Her Assassin's senses, finely honed in the paranoid atmosphere of Guild politics, told her something was wrong here. _She was not alone: somebody was in her room_. She readied a throwing knife, kicked the door open, then fell and rolled into the room, coming up near to where she knows a ready-use crossbow is in the rack and near at hand. She stopped, dead still and silent, knife ready to throw.

"_Jocasta?"_

Alice half-turned and saw the door was open. _Anyone_ could see into the room. This must not do, not in these circumstances. She kicked the door closed, and locked it.

"That was unwise, Jocasta. I could have killed you."

She licked her lips, nervously. This was doubly and trebly unwise.

Jocasta was lying naked on her bed. The girl licked her lips, trembled slightly, and opened her legs in mute invitation. Looking at the naked seventeen-year old body, it was Alice's turn to tremble, though not with cold.

_Oh, those pert little breasts! That tangle of blonde bush! That half-hidden cleft, a darker pink under the bush… to lick down that tight flat belly and into the slit…_

"Do you like what you see, Miss?" Jocasta spread her legs wider.

"Jocasta… Cassie… I like what I see very, very, much. And I will say to you that you are beautiful. But this can't be allowed to happen."

Alice found the girl a spare dressing gown, best Agatean silk, and said "Put something on. Please. And then we can talk".

Looking slightly puzzled, Jocasta covered up the sight of what Alice most desired. And most feared.

"Whatever gave you the idea, Cassie? I'm your teacher. Some things just cannot be allowed to happen."

She sat down next to the girl, said "please don't misconstrue this", and put a chaste friendly arm around her shoulders. Cassie rested her head on Alice's shoulder, the affectionate contact Alice allowed when they went night-climbing together.

"What you said the other day, miss. The morning after you caught me in bed with Millie, when we'd both been doing it. You told us that you're one yourself. You know, not interested in boys."

"The word is _lesbian_, Cassie." The natural teacher in Alice corrected her. "I'm definitely one and I've known it since I was younger than you. If you're strong enough to fight a Society that disapproves of these things, you're likely to become one as well."

Cassie nodded. "I talked about it with Millie afterwards. When you said you weren't going to drag us in front of the Master, like Miss Smith-Rhodes did with two girls she caught in her House. When you said we could all keep each other's secrets. Millie agreed I should go first, and then tell her what it was like with you afterwards. You know, what you like to do. Then you could have Millie the next night.".

Alice was taken aback.

"You mean you thought… you really thought… that I was cutting you a deal? That in return for me not taking you to the Master, my price for silence was that you both slept with me? Cassie, that wasn't what I meant _at all_! I wasn't blackmailing you! Heavens above, I as good as told you I'm a lesbian, and took the risk that you wouldn't use it to blackmail _me_! Now Cassie, let me tell you WHY I could never take you, or any other girl in my care, in front of Downey for displaying what as far as I'm concerned is perfectly natural affection for each other to meet a perfectly normal human need!"

Alice dug deep down for a bitter personal memory, of having been almost fourteen at the Quirm Academy For Young Ladies, of how Caroline Bradwell, who was nearly sixteen, had taken Alice into her bed and taught her many, many, nice ways two girls could keep each other warm at night. About how that prize two-faced hypocritical bitch Miss Delcross had caught them. About the bitter tears of knowing Caroline had been expelled and knowing they might never meet again. About sitting there in knicker-wetting fear of her father, the Bishop, and his rage at his daughter having in his eyes self-polluted and prostituted herself. And the final two years at Quirm, having narrowly missed expulsion, being watched all the time by the staff and other girls, and learning how to fight when the hateful spiteful words like "dyke" and "lezzie" had been hurled at her.

"And the biggest hypocrisy was that Butts and Delcross were two of the most obvious dykes out." Alice said. "They still run the school now, you know? The world just sees them as spinsters who gave up on marriage to serve a higher calling and educate _gels. _It sees them sharing a home and a bed at night but doesn't connect as to _why_ they share a bed. But God help any _gel _at QAYL who shares her bed with another _gel_. You can't run a school that has a bad name for perversion or inversion or turns out _gels_ who've made themselves unmarriageable. Bad for business, at three thousand dollars a term. So they sacked Caroline and put me on probation for two years as a message to the other _gels _not to even _think _about any sort of sex. And as reassurance to the paying parents that their little girls will come out of the sausage-machine as pure-minded prissy little virgins."

Jocasta nodded. Alice went on. "Just _connect_, Jocasta. Why do you think the older boys in the Assassins' School are allowed – _encouraged,_ even – to go to the sort of parties where well-bred society ladies and the better class of Seamstress are there in abundance, and the boys not only get to lose their virginities, they get a thorough grounding in what Rosie Palm coyly calls _the amatory arts_? Wheras I'm expected to keep you girls in at night and do a stock-check just before midnight to be sure you're all accounted for? Because it's expected, that's why! Parents – fathers – who pay your fees have what Lord Downey calls a "gentleman's understanding" with the Guild. Informally, the Guild undertakes to ensure their _sons_ become sexually experienced as part of the education.. But their _daughters _are going to damn well stay virgins to keep their worth in the marriage market. That's why _you_ wear that bloody shapeless gymslip, while your brother over in Viper House gets to play the available young dandy. That's why Johanna bloody Smith-Rhodes acted as prosecution and executioner with the case of "un-natural sexuality" in her house, and why I have to keep so bloody well discreet about mine. But I'll never betray a girl in Tump House who does. And now you know why."

Alice hesitated, then gently kissed Jocasta on the lips. Cassie _mmmmmmm_'ed, and tried to slip a hand inside Alice's dressing gown. Alice, surprised at her own self-discipline, gently restrained her.

"That's as far as we could ever safely go here, Cassie" she said, gently. "But you do the Final Exam next year, don't you? Then you leave the School. If were were to… accidentally meet each other… that summer, and I'm planning to go out towards Genua on a dig, two people with a lot in common could share their travelling expenses and rent a room together. Just something for you to think about. If you let me have the gown back in the morning?"

Cassie reluctantly left. "Goodnight, miss" she said. "And… thank you."

Alice fell back on her bed, and exhaled with a _whooomph! _Kissing the girl like that had been a hell of a risk, but hey, I am _not_ made of _stone_, cut me some _slack_ here! she demanded, of any unseen God who might be watching.

Alice thought back to another time. Just after Frankie Fagin had disappeared.

That dreadful afternoon. Her face slick with tears and ruined mascara, Alice heard the thumping at her door and raised her head from the pillow.

"Go AWAY!" she shouted. _Can't a woman have a sobbing fit in peace? _

There had been a discreet coughing. "It's me, Ellice. Johanna Smith-Rhodes. Lady T'Malia sends her compliments end wonders if you could ettend upon her et her earliest convenience?"

"What, NOW?" Alice had screamed.

"Yes, now. End don't scream et me like thet, Ellice. I'm only the messenger".

Alice apologized – even an idiot like Johanna, with her rasping White Howondalandian **(1)** accent and her inbred racism, deserved common courtesy - and said she'd be down presently. Besides, she and Johanna had arrived at the Guild in the same stark circumstances – train to be an Assassin or die trying – and something of a bond had grown between them. Even if the Howondalandian was disgracefully homophobic, and her native language used the charmless word _moffie_ to describe lesbians, which sounded worse and more derogatory than _dyke_ or _lezzie_. Alice was surprised that Johanna didn't suspect a thing about her, even after knowing each other for so long.

And Lady T'Malia was the undisputed doyenne of female staff at the Guild school: she'd been teaching, the sole example of her kind, since long before the Guild had admitted girls, and by general mute consent, was the mentor who handled pastoral – and disciplinary – issues among the female staff.

Alice repaired her shattered makeup and composed herself, even though her eyes were still red and puffy, and went to meet her mentor, wondering if it was disciplinary or pastoral.

Lady T'Malia occupied a suite of rooms in the best wing of the Guild as befitted an Assassin of her high status, and Alice was ushered into a luxuriously fitted sitting room by an attentive maidservant, who dropped a courtesy to her employer.

"Miss Band, ma'am"

T'Malia nodded acknowledgement, the maid retreated, and both the women in the room turned to meet her, their faces displaying concern and care.

"Please sit down, my dear" the older Assassin said.

"Bobbi, could you? I find it can give _entirely _the wrong impression if I offer to fix somebody a drink. Quite tiresome, when what you mean is pure normal hospitality!"

Alice looked at the fearsome array of rings on each hand, and nodded: T'Malia's hands were rightly feared in and around the Guild. It was said she could inhume the entire city, were there a contract out on it, with the poison secreted about her left hand alone. Even in her possible sixties, she was still stunningly beautiful, although it was the sort of carefully constructed beauty that required high maintenance.

She also recognized Lady Roberta de Meserole, the aunt-behind-the-throne of the current Patrician, and remembered when she had come to her attention, at that dratted faculty meeting some years ago now, just before she'd met… another wave of gut-aching sorrow and loss threatened to overwhelm her.

"I know you prefer pink gin, Alice" Bobbi said, extending a glass. "Be assured, the only tampering agent is that shot of bloody awful bitters you seem to prefer. That and a slice of lemon."

Alice didn't ask _how_ Lady de Meserole came to know this. She'd know. It was her business to know.

"Oh, Alice. Alice. What _are_ we to _do_ with you?" T'Malia, asked, almost rhetorically. "You may be sure, my dear, I've been watching you closely ever since you first came to the attention of this Guild. And in all that time, your conduct has been a model of integrity and discretion. I find you to be an upstanding young woman wholly devoted to the care of the young girls she has been entrusted with. I'm so pleased we didn't make a mistake in selecting you. But I'm bound to say that you have chosen a hard, hard, path for yourself!"

Alice tensed. Bobbi gave her a reassuring, sympathetic, smile.

"We _know_, Alice" she said, kindly. "You can speak and act freely in this room. Do you think you're the _only_ one?"

"And I'm so, so, sorry for you in your current loss." T'Malia said. "If I'd lost Bobbi. I'd think I was owed a chance to scream and sob and get it all out of my system!"

Alice goggled. Was T'Malia herself, and one of the most powerful, if not _the_ most powerful woman in the City, taking her into their confidence and telling her, flatly, that they too were…

"An established couple, yes". Bobbi said. "Those who need to know, know. Havelock, certainly, although while I don't believe he fully understands, respects his old aunt's foibles and eccentricities."

T'Malia took her arm, gently. The two older women smiled at each other.

"I have to tell you, my dear, the Guild was approached by interests… close to the Thieves' Guild… to consider a formal contract on Miss Fagin".

"_No!" _Alice screamed, inside_. "Are they going to suggest to me that to prove my loyalty to the Guild, I am now expected to inhume my lover?" _

"In the circumstances, and being in possession of facts denied to Lord Downey, I'm happy to be able to say that I was able to use my influence to prevail on the Council to decline such a contract. We're waiting for a fourth person to join us, Alice. She'll be able to set your mind more at rest."

The maid returned and whispered in T'Malia's ear.

"Bring her in, please".

Alice was surprised to see the new arrival was Sergeant Angua of the Watch. She entered the parlour with no sign of deference, holding her helmet under her arm. T'Malia did not invite her to sit.

"Ah, gnadige Grafin!" Bobbi said, sweetly. "Wie geht's?"

"Perhaps in Morpokian, Madam." Angua suggested. She gave Alice a look that took her back years, in the aftermath of Caroline, to her childhood dog looking at her with a doleful expression of _I see you're hurting and I'm hurting with you, but I don't know how to make it better and that makes me hurt more._

"And here I'm a Delphine. Which is a _Right Honourable_. A Lady in Waiting, so to speak. I don't become Grafin until my mother either dies, or the Pack casts her out."

Bobbi nodded. "You're aware the Council has debated whether to issue a contract on your mother, following the recent regrettable business in Überwald? In certain quarters she's considered a dangerous woman, whose interests are imimical to those of Ankh-Morpork."

Angua shrugged and didn't seem surprised. "Do as you will, my lady. But my opinion is that my mother is a rather vain, stupid woman who's shot her bolt and missed. After my brother's death she can be regarded as harmless. It probably isn't worth the Guild's while. And my family are hard even for Assassins to kill. Dr Cruces thought he'd killed _me_, for instance" **(2).**

"As you will. Please brief me on the other matter?"

Angua looked again at Alice, with that indefinable dog-like look of mournful sadness at the pain of a human friend. In other circumstances, Alice got a _frisson_ from regarding the tall, lean, blonde with the toned body and gorgeously honed legs: today, she realized, in some way, friends she never knew she had were rallying around in time of need.

Angua cleared her throat, a Watchwoman about to give evidence.

"We took the suspect into custody very early this afternoon. Protective custody, really, as there were rumours that people close to the Thieves' Guild wanted to see her either dead or seriously injured. On receipt of a formal complaint from the Thieves' Guild Council, we ascertained that the principal charge was one sample offence of the sexual corruption of a minor. Even though the alleged offence may have happened on Thieves' Guild premises, Captain Carrot took the point of view that he could refuse demands to pass her into Guild custody, mainly because any allegation of this sort is a serious enough charge under general law, which applies to _everyone_, to merit the case being heard by the Patrician. In addition, the threats received against the life of the accused, as he pointed out to Mr Boggis, cast doubt on the ability of the Thieves' Guild to deal impartially with the matter, and he sent an interim report to the Palace for the Patrician's attention."

"Which is why we're here, as Havelock delegated the matter to me." Bobbi said, briskly.

"Indeed, Madam." said Angua, impassive. "Captain Carrot then gave me full authority to handle the case on behalf of the Watch. I escorted the prisoner to the Hub Gate Watchhouse, where because of the delicacy of the matter, all male personnel were sent out to pound the beat. I personally searched the prisoner for weapons and contraband, and she was then questioned as to the alleged offence by myself and Sergeant Littlebottom. I have copies of the documentation here."

"Thank you, sergeant. And the conclusion of your investigation?"

"I'm satisfied that an act, or series of acts, of a sexual nature, happened between the accused and an eighteen-year old girl who at the time was a final-year pupil at the Thieves' Guild School. However, those cases we were able to identify happened off the premises of the Guild, and this substantially weakens the case made by the Guild to deal with the matter internally. In addition, Ankh-Morpork does not have legislation establishing an age of consent for adult sexual activity. May I say it would make life easier for us if the Patrician were to investigate and rule on this matter? However, there is a general social expectation that if one party, usually the female, is under the age of fourteen, it's clearly illegal. Between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, there is a grey area. Over the age of seventeen, however, the social consensus in this city appears to be that if a girl is unmarried and childless, she's a slow learner. Miss Fagin's chosen partner was over eighteen. In that event, I doubt there's a case to answer."

Alice's heart leapt. Was there hope?

"Ankh-Morpork has old laws on the statute books which permit, but place considerable restraints on, male homosexuality. There are no comparable laws concerning female homosexuality. Therefore it is not illegal. It may be socially frowned upon, but it is not illegal. The Thieves' Guild case falls here, as well. _But_. There is a prosecution case in that as a member of the teaching profession, Miss Fagin clearly had a duty of care towards her pupils, to whom she stood in loco parentis. It can be argued that she was in clear breach of the expectation that a teacher's behaviour towards pupils in her charge should at all times be above board and beyond reproach. But then, madam, this is a breach of Teachers' Guild rules and should be dealt with by that Guild as an internal disciplinary matter."

"Do you believe it would be allowed to stay there? That she would lose her teaching licence, and that would be _all_?"

"No, Madam. The Crayfish family are hot for her blood. And they'd take it. With razors."

Angua paused.

"But at the moment, to be frank with you, all that's a bit academic."

"How so?"

"We lost the prisoner, I'm afraid, ma'am. I take full responsibility, naturally, for failing to spot the lockpicks she had concealed in her boot-heel."

Bobbi de Meserole smiled.

"How unfortunate, sergeant. But you shouldn't take it upon yourself. I hear the Thieves' Guild have built a complete replica of a standard Watch-house, with absolutely accurate replicas of the cells and intervening locked doors, which they use for teaching an advanced module in Escape and Evasion. So much for the city seeking to save money by building all its watch houses to the same standard plan. Incidentally, how do you know the lockpicks you didn't detect were hidden in her boots?"

Angua winked at Alice. "On past experience, madam, that's where Thieves Guild members _always_ hide the lockpicks."

"And the involuntary movement of your eyelid just then?"

"Nervous tic, madam."

"So Miss Fagin escaped. This is wild speculation on my part, but was there an unattended and insecurely tethered horse, fully saddled up, within ten yards of the Watch House door?"

"Funny you should say that, madam."

"And the Hub Gate, once passed, allows someone fleeing the city a choice of escape routes. How terribly inconvenient."

Bobbi smiled, enigmatically. "Tell me, Angua, I'm thinking of changing my hairdresser soon. Hugo can be _so_ boring and predictable. I've noticed people like yourself, and Miss Band here, always seem _very_ well groomed. You both go to Conina Harebut's, yes? I might drop by myself to book an appointment, as the place sounds so…interesting!"

"You would fit right in, Madam. Trust me."

"Thank you, sergeant. I know the Watch is busy. You may go."

Angua left, taking care to squeeze Alice's shoulder in passing. It was a small gesture that meant much.

T'Malia sighed.

"Serafine von Überwald really is an extraordinarily stupid woman." she remarked. "A daughter like that should have been educated by _us_. Good family, honour, integrity, breeding. What an asset the Guild missed!"

Bobbi shrugged.

"Yes, but Havelock has Views on the issue of the Guild recruiting from among the noble Vampire and Werewolf families. Imagine not Angua, but _Wolfgang_ von Überwald with a Guild education? Not even Vimes could have beaten that!" **(3)**

They turned their attention back to Alice.

"Well, that's the best we can do for now, my dear" said T'Malia. "Your lover is a lady of extraordinary resource who has been trained by the Thieves' Guild to make her escape from Watch custody and then, no doubt, evade recapture. Mr Boggis can hardly complain about the first-class training his Guild provides! And of course no blame attaches to Sergeant von Überwald. No doubt miss Fagin will be well on her way to safety now. But she won't be able to return to the City for a long time, if at all. And I'm afraid Havelock will note that she escaped custody, and pass a sentence of exile _in absentia. _It may be a while before you see Francesca again."

Alice couldn't hold it any more: she sobbed. She barely noted T'Malia removing the rings from her hands, with great care and concentration, then moving to hold and console her. Bobbi looked on, with an expression of grave concern.

"We've discussed what we can best do for you." Bobbi said. "As T'Malia said, we've been watching you. I have to say that even though the temptation must have been immense, we have never _once_ witnessed or heard of you improperly touching a pupil or stepping outside the usual boundaries of teacher-pupil behaviour. Had you ever done differently, we might now be undergoing a somewhat _different_ sort of interview."

Bobbi paused to let the implications set in.

The she said: "We have arranged for you to see a mutual friend of ours who might be in a position to assist you. You will be approached during the week. For now, would you welcome a day or two's study leave? We can arrange for classes to be rescheduled."

Alice gratefully accepted the offer of temporary leave. On the third day, a note was sent to her inviting her to a discreet soirée at an address on Sheer Street.

"We look forward to seeing you" was written below, in formal handwriting she recognized as T'Malia's. Intrigued, Alice sent a polite RSVP by return.

* * *

**(1)** In our world, Miss Smith-Rhodes would be a South African. Very definitely of the sort who says "_Rhodesia_" rather than "_Zimbabwe_". Ian Smith. Cecil Rhodes. Go figure.

**(2)** See _**Men-At-Arms**__**. **_

**(3)** See _**The Fifth Elephant**__**.**_


End file.
